


Tales from Camp Green Wood

by BroadwayBaggins



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Summer, Summer Camp, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: It's the third day of camp and Emma is already exhausted. Enter Henry Hopkins to the rescue.Or, the summer camp AU that you never knew you needed.
Relationships: Byron Hale/Anne Hastings, Emma Green/Henry Hopkins, Jedediah "Jed" Foster/Mary Phinney, Samuel Diggs/Charlotte Jenkins
Comments: 36
Kudos: 11
Collections: Mercy Street Summer Camp AU





	1. and it's you and me in the summertime

Sure, the costume had been made for someone nearly a foot shorter and substantially wide-- she could make it work.

Emma took a step back and shook out the costume in her hands, releasing a cloud of dust that danced in the sunbeams. She was up in the attic of one of the barns that the camp used primarily for storage, searching through moldering boxes of costume and dress-up clothes. It wasn’t even mid-morning, but already the heat and humidity were thick enough for Emma to wish that she’d taken a leaf out of her sister’s book and begged to be assigned to lifeguard duty instead of the mishmash of theatre/arts and crafts that she had gotten stuck with. At least Alice got to lounge around by the pool or the lake every day instead of being stuck up here, sifting through relics of camp pageants past and sweating like a sinner in church.

It was only the third official day of camp. The showcase wasn’t even until Fourth of July weekend, but Anne had sent Emma up here to “see what they had to work with”, and as Anne was technically her superior this summer, Emma wasn’t about to argue. Her family might own the camp, but that didn’t make her immune to getting into trouble...and Anne certainly had a talent for getting others into hot water.

Emma shifted so she was sitting criss-cross applesauce, as her littlest campers called it, on the grimy floor. Already streaks of dust and dirt marred her cutoff shorts, and sweat was dripping down her back and dampening her camp shirt. She pulled another box toward her and opened it up, but this one only revealed some old Americana sheet music and some truly ancient craft supplies, including a Ziploc baggie of pipe cleaners that may, at one time, had been bright fuchsia but had faded to a sad shade of baby pink, all tangled in a knotty, gluey, glitter-filled clump. The former she set aside--you never know when something like that could come in handy--and the latter she put firmly in the garbage pile. At this point, she was going to throw out more stuff than she actually uncovered.

Even though it was hotter than blazes, Emma reached up and yanked the hair tie out of her ponytail, letting her dark hair fall in waves around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it a couple times, ignoring the cloud of heat that it raised around her, as if she were sitting in an oven. She went to pile it up on the top of her head in a messy bun (much cooler, temperature-wise, than a pony even if only incrementally) when she heard a creak from the ladder leading up to the loft. “Hello?” she called, getting ready to untangle her legs and stand up. The last thing she needed was for one of her kiddos to figure out that there was a ladder that they could climb with no supervision. She could already envision the paperwork.

But instead of one of the kids in her group, the head that appeared in the trapdoor entrance was that of a dark-haired young man who Emma recognized from orientation. The last few days, beginning with orientation weekend before being tossed headfirst into the deep end of campers and schedules and mercifully, no rainy days yet, had been such a blur that Emma was still getting acquainted with everyone on staff. She thought for a second, remembering dinner on Sunday night before the first session day campers arrive the next morning, vaguely recalling seeing this man sitting next to Samuel around the fire. They had been laughing at something, and then Sam had brought out his guitar...

Emma watched his eyes scan the attic for a moment curiously before landing on her. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

“Just me,” Emma said with a smile, watching as he climbed the rest of the ladder and gently hoisted himself through the trapdoor. His camp shirt was black--Emma didn’t know how he was handling that in this heat--and he wore tan cargo shorts and sensible running shoes which crunched the grit under his feet as he walked over to her. “Raiding the costume stash looking for anything we can use for the Fourth of July extravaganza.”

“Already?” he asked, his eyebrows raising.

“Be prepared or die trying. The unofficial Anne Hastings motto.”

That got a laugh out of him. “She does seem a little...intense.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Emma wiped her dusty hands on her shorts and stood up as gracefully as she could manage. She hoped she didn’t have any dirt or dust on her butt, then wondered why she cared-- _hopefully he wouldn’t be looking at her butt anyway, right?_ added a voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Mary _._

“I’m sure we’ve been introduced, but you’ll have to forgive me--it’s been pretty much a whirlwind since day one. I’m Emma, Emma Green.”

She held out a hand and he shook it, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Green? As in James and Jane Green, directors and general head honchos? Green as in...Camp Green Wood?”

Her face flushed. “Yeah. _Those_ Greens. Sorry about the name. Great-great-Granddaddy thought he was clever.”

Another laugh. Emma was two for two. “I think it’s funny. I’m Henry Hopkins.”

“Oh!” That did spark a bit of recognition. “The...chaplain, right?”

“Student chaplain, at least for now,” he corrected gently. “But not so much while I’m here. Unless it’s really needed, I guess. Instead, you can catch me attempting to supervise fifteen fourth grade boys through the different activity groups.”

“Oh, a true counselor,” Emma said knowingly. “Good luck with that. They showed y’all where they keep the coffee, right?”

“Oh yes. It hasn’t been too bad so far, although there was one incident yesterday with some ghost stories that upset some of the boys. Something about Civil War phantoms?”

“Oh yeah, there’s lots of stories about that. Some small battles took place on this land. The hotel my family owns used to be a hospital during the Civil War, actually, so if anything is bound to be haunted, my money’s on that.” She trailed off, aware that she was rambling on about things that he probably didn’t even care about. He was studying to be a preacher, right? He probably didn’t even believe in ghosts.

He looked interested, though. His eyes were very, very blue. “That’s amazing,” he said. “The hotel, I mean. The history there.”

“Yeah. I mean, when you’ve grown up around it, literally, it kind of stops being interesting. But I’d be happy to give you a lesson. A history lesson, I mean. I’d be happy to tell you about the history. Only, be prepared for like a super SparkNotes version.” She glanced around the mess of boxes at their feet. “Speaking of history, I actually was sent up here to see what of this mess can be salvaged for the Fourth of July show, which Anne has somehow gotten into her head is going to be a musical journey through American history, so if we get a call from Lin-Manuel Miranda’s lawyers, we know who to blame.”

“Sounds ambitious.”

“Particularly considering the kiddos are supposed to have a hand in writing the show, and we haven’t started, so I don’t even really know what I’m looking for.”

“Can I help?” Henry asked, sounding eager. “I mean, technically I was sent up here to look for some extra canoe paddles, but I’m not seeing any, and this seems a far more worthy cause. Besides, I’m doing a history minor. I could be your historical consultant.”

“I think in the theatre world, they might call that a dramaturg.”

“Even better. Now I have a cool title.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to laugh. “Well, if it won’t get you in trouble, I sure could use the help. Or at least some company.”

Henry made a little face and reached for the nearest box, dragging it across the grit to him. “Byron’s in charge of the boys for the next hour at least. Hopefully they won’t eat him alive before then. I’m all yours until they need me to report for duty again.” He tugged on one of the corners of the box, tearing the cardboard slightly as it opened. An assortment of feather boas in various colors tumbled out, and he looked up at Emma triumphantly. “Something that you might be able to use?”

“Oh, jackpot. Having you around is already starting to pay off.”

Maybe, Emma thought, it wouldn’t be such a terrible summer after all.


	2. we owned the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The counselors finally get to let loose after a long day.

"I'm calling in that favor you owe me. Actually, I'm calling in all the favors you owe me," she said.

“I owe you favors already? That doesn’t sound like me.” Emma grinned at Mary as she rifled through her dufflebag, searching for the contraband candy and other assorted junk food that she had stashed there. Lights’ out for the campers had been thirty minutes ago, and the counselors were meeting up to “unwind” after the long day--which meant drinking, s’mores making, and other such shenanigans.

“I’m serious, Emma. Oh, hey, Cheeto me.” Mary caught the bag of Cheetos that Emma tossed her way and opened it in one practiced motion. “I need to know everything you can tell me about that Jed Foster.”

“Ah. Trouble in the health lodge?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Only if you call him second-guessing every single decision I made _trouble_. He even asked me if I was sure I wanted to use _that_ brand of calamine lotion on Hattie’s mosquito bites.”

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you about him. He’s a bit...prickly.”

“That’s the understatement of the year. You know what he told me? _‘I know more about these things than you.’_ As if we’re not both pre-med and there’s really that many ways to treat a damn mosquito bite. What is his _problem?_ ”

Emma shrugged, opening up a bag of Sun Chips. “He usually works here with his girlfriend, but she got a fancy internship in LA instead this year. Didn’t even talk to him about it, so I guess he’s pretty pissed. He shouldn’t take it out on you, though, that’s not cool.”

Mary sighed, running a hand through her bobbed hair. “It’s not. At least he’s decent with the kids. That’s about the only thing that kept me from trying to beat him to death with an Ace bandage.”

“He’s nice once you get to know him, I promise. It just...takes a while.”

Mary considered her thoughtfully. “Samuel said the same thing. I guess that’s as good an endorsement as any.”

“Laaaaaaaaaaaay-deeeeeeeeeeees!” a new voice sang, and Emma watched as Anne Hastings strode into view. She had a tote bag emblazoned with various logos for Broadway shows slung over her shoulder, and from inside it Emma could hear bottles clinking. “I hereby declare this party _started_.” She took one strap of the bag off her shoulder and began to rifle through it. “What’s your poison? I’ve got wine coolers, Fireball, a little bit of peach schnapps--”

Mary made a face. “Got anything _good_ in there?”

Anne fixed Mary with a withering look. “ _Excuse_ me, _baroness_ , but some of us actually have to rely on our paltry counselor’s salary! I was a bit _limited_ in my selections at the local excuse for a liquor store!”

“It’s okay, Anne. I’m sure the others will have something else if Mary prefers,” Emma said quickly, wanting to avoid an argument. She had seen the way Mary had bristled at Anne’s _baroness_ comment, and how Anne’s eyes were glinting with annoyance. “Frank usually brings some Bud Light or something. It’s all good.”

“Fine,” Mary said after a second. Anne responded by reaching for a wine cooler out of her bag and taking a swig. “Come on, girls,” she said, linking arms with Emma and leaving Mary to bring up the rear. “The fire waits for no woman.”

They quickly made their way to the firepit where the other counselors were gathering. They walked quickly and quietly, not necessarily because they were afraid of being caught--the only real danger was if they woke up Mrs. Brannan, whose tiny cabin was right next to the dining hall--but because the act of sneaking around made everything seem so much more fun and exciting.

They were among the last to arrive. Samuel and Charlotte were there, sitting close together, Sam’s guitar propped against the log next to them. Emma saw Alice wearing tiny cutoffs and what was perhaps the tiniest bikini top known to man. Emma wasn’t sure how she wasn’t freezing her buns off. Anne immediately abandoned them when she spotted Byron, launching herself at him as if he were a soldier returning from war that she hadn’t seen in years. 

“How long has that been a thing?” Mary asked as she watched Byron shove his tongue down Anne’s throat. She turned away and reached for one of the Bud Lights that Emma had mentioned. She popped the top and took a sip, grimacing. “Beer is gross.”

“And yet we drink it.”

The arrival of Jed Foster caused both girls to turn towards him. He, too, was clutching a can of Bud that was currently sweating into his palm. A guitar was slung over his shoulder like a backpack. “Hey, Jed,” Emma said kindly.

“My dear Miss Green. How is life in the art barn?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” 

His eyes flickered over to Mary almost nervously. “Mary.”

“Jed.” She nodded at his guitar. “You play?”

“When the moment calls for it,” he said coolly.

All right, this was interesting. Despite her earlier animosity, Emma could see clear interest in Mary’s eyes as she gazed at Jed. Anne would say that Mary had a lady-boner for him, and Emma wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong.

“I’m gonna...get a drink,” she mumbled, leaving the two to work through their mutual sexual tension in their own time. She turned and almost immediately collided with a warm body that smelled of campfire and pine. She knew because her nose collided with his shirt.

“Woah!” Emma felt hands on her upper arms--she’d worn a tank top and was already starting to feel chilly, but the contact caused warmth to go straight through her--to steady her. “My bad. Sorry, Emma.”

“Henry!” There he was, wearing the same outfit as earlier when they’d been in the loft together, but now his sleeves were rolled up a little and he was barefoot. There was a band-aid on his thumb that hadn’t been there earlier. “What happened to you?”

Henry shrugged. “Little disagreement with a bee. Jed and Mary fixed me up. Can I get you a drink? We have quite a selection. Beer, or beer. Or...” he grinned and held up another six-pack, already half gone. “Beer!”

“Anne brought some stuff, but I think she’s...busy.”

“That’s one word for it. Has she worked here long?”

“Yeah, this is her...” Emma tried to think. It was a little hard to focus when he was looking at her like that, the firelight shining on his face. “Fourth summer? Fifth summer? I can’t remember. Fourth, I think. She started when she was like seventeen.”

“What’s the deal with the accent?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Like, is it an act, or...”

Emma laughed. “I can see why you’d think so, but it’s actually real. She’s English. Or half English, at least. I can’t remember which parent.”

“ _LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!_ ”

Henry winced as Byron’s voice rang out through the camp. He had climbed up onto a stump just outside of the circle of logs around the fire and held one of Anne’s bottles high above his head. “Isn’t he worried about waking the kids?”

“Byron doesn’t worry about anything.”

“Your attention please!” Byron bellowed. “Counselors of our beloved Camp Green Wood! Another summer has begun! Another summer of camraderie, friendship, and shenanigans--”

“Get to the fuckin’ point, Hale!” Frank called out, his arm slung over Alice’s shoulder. His words caused a ripple of laughter around the circle.

“Come on, let’s sit down. He does this every year and we need to be sitting for it, it’s a whole thing,” Emma leaned up to whisper in Henry’s ear. They made their way to the circle and sat down on the only remaining empty log, between Mary and Jed and Sam and Charlotte. It was a bit crowded by this point, so Emma ended up with her entire side pressed up against Henry. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d stolen a bottle of Alice’s signature Georgia Peach body spray.

Byron put a dramatic finger to his lips. In case the message wasn’t abundantly clear, Anne’s loud _“Shhhhhhhhh!_ ”, followed by “Shut the fuck up, Stringfellow!” brought about the desired dramatic silence.

Byron hopped off the stump, still brandishing the bottle. “I hereby declare the summer officially....” he paused for effect. “Started!”

He smashed the bottle against the stump like he was christening a yacht. It exploded, and the assembled counselors let out appreciative claps and cheers that almost drowned out Anne’s screech of “I didn’t put the tarp down! You said you’d let me put the tarp down! YOU ARE CLEANING UP EVERY BIT OF THAT BROKEN GLASS, BYRON HALE!”

“He does that every year?” Henry asked, his expression unreadable.

“Every year. And every year he forget to do it in a way that doesn’t release broken glass everywhere. You can set your watch by it.”

“This place is crazy,” Henry remarked, but he didn’t sound scared off by this fact. Someone was passing around a bag of marshmallows, and Henry took two and handed one over to Emma.

“What kind of marshmallow toaster are you?” he asked. “Let it get nice and golden, or put it straight in the fire?”

Charlotte handed Emma one of the marshmallow skewers, and Emma answered by sticking it right into the center of the flames. Henry looked aghast.

“No!” he cried. “No, no, wrong! You’ve got to do it slowly, gently...”

“It’s no use, Rev,” Charlotte said, nudging Emma with her shoulder. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it so many times. Our Emma just lives for chaos.”

Emma retrieved her burning marshmallow and quickly blew out the remaining flames, leaving it charred just the way she liked it. “You’re both wrong. This is the only way to do it.”

Sam had been strumming his guitar gently, tuning it as Jed worked on his. Mary perched nearby, eating a s’more and pretending she wasn’t watching. Sam gave one final strum and looked up. “All right! Any requests?”

“You promised me some Sheryl Crow,” Charlotte reminded him.

“Later, Char. You don’t start a set with Sheryl Crow.” Jed’s face implied that such a thing was ludicrous. Emma wondered how much trouble she’d be in if she throw her flip-flop at him.

Perry, one of the junior counselors, had been creeping their way. He tapped Sam on the shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Huh? Oh, sure, why not.” Sam conferred with Jed for a moment before counting them off. “Okay, one-two-three-four.”

_“When I wake up, oh I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you!”_

The song was met with a mix of groans and cheers. Henry looked up from assembling his s’more with precision and laughed. “This is definitely gonna be an interesting summer.”

Emma grinned and hoped she wasn’t imagining the way he seemed to lean closer to her as he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write more. Y'all wanted me to write more. I am having such fun with this.
> 
> middlmarch provided Mary's first line of dialogue.
> 
> Title comes from the song by Lady Antebellum. Which I'm warning you right now will become a running theme.


	3. so fresh, so fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice and Frank have a different definition of lifeguard duty, and yes, they're totally doing it on purpose.

“Do you think she does this on purpose? Like, to torture me?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder at the pool deck where her sister was sauntering up to the lifeguard stand.

“Who?” Anne’s voice was muffled. She poked her head out from behind a precarious tower of inner tubes and various other flotation devices. She had decided that pool noodles would be excellent fake swords and bayonets for the pageant (why the production needed fake weaponry, Emma had no idea), so they were raiding the pool house for ones they could use. Emma’s suggestion that they go and buy some that were actually _new_ and _clean_ had been shot down, not by Anne, surprisingly, but by her own father. James had patted Emma on the head and told her to “just try and do it on the cheap, sweetie,” and now, here they were.

“Alice.”

“I hate to be the one to say it, but it doesn’t really seem like she’s doing anything.” Mary was standing in the doorway of the pool shed, leaning against the jamb with her arms crossed over her chest. It was her break time from the health lodge, so Emma and Anne had recruited her to be an extra set of hands. “She’s just...walking.”

The playlist that had been going all afternoon switched tracks, and suddenly Lady Antebellum’s “You Look Good” blasted through the speakers above the pool at full volume. Mary’s eyes widened.

“Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

Emma wasn’t sure whether Alice had planned this specifically, but she wasn’t about to throw away her shot. Immediately her hips began to sway even more as she strutted her way to the lifeguard stand, turning the pool deck into her own personal runway. Emma was pretty sure she wanted to die.

_“I’m thinkin’ everybody better stand in line,”_ Alice sang, her accent more pronounced than ever. Her hips swiveled to the sultry beat of the song as she stuck out her chest and pouted her lips. “ _‘Cuz they need to know that your body’s comin’ with me tonight!”_ This lyric was directed to Frank, standing by the lifeguard stand with his shirt off and an appreciative grin on his face. Alice hooked a finger in his direction, beckoning him closer.

Emma buried her face in her hands. “I used to _like_ this song,” she mumbled. _And that guy, but let’s not open up that wound_.

“Jesus Christ. That’s practically obscene. There are _children_ here.” The disdain in Anne’s voice almost made up for the fact that there was a tiny spider making its way across her shoulder, unnoticed. Emma quickly brushed it away before Anne could see.

“That didn’t stop you and Byron from going at it last night.” Mary’s tone was almost diplomatic.

Anne shrugged. “The kids were sleeping. Nobody saw. What happens ‘round the campfire, stays ‘round the campfire.”

“This isn’t Vegas, Anne,” Mary protested.

“Someone might want to tell that to _Baywatch_ over there.”

Frank had reached Alice now, and he spun her around. Her eyes caught Emma’s, and Emma watched her sister flash her a wicked,, triumphant grin. Emma wanted to melt right onto the deck. She wanted to take up residence in the pool shed and never come out, fading into camp legend and becoming one with the spiders and ancient floaties. She wanted--

_“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”_

Emma hadn’t even seen Frank move, but the next thing any of them knew, he was hoisting Alice into the air. There was a tremendous splash that soaked the deck of the pool, and Alice sprang up like a cork a few seconds later, soaked and spluttering. Water streamed from her drenched blonde hair, and mascara ran down her face in thick, watery black lines.

Emma’s gasp of shock quickly turned into nervous giggles. After a beat, Mary and Anne joined in, holding onto each other and practically screaming with laughter. 

_“FRANK!”_ Alice screamed. “I’m gonna _kill_ you, Frank Stringfellow! Just look what you did! Look at my _hair_!”

“She knows she’s a lifeguard, right?” Mary asked. “She knows getting wet is part of the job description? It’s really important to me that she knows that.”

“She knows,” Emma choked out, then dissolved into giggles again as she watched her sister struggle to heave herself up the ladder on the side of the pool. It was slippery at the best of times, and it was probably past time to replace it.

“Lighten up, Alice! It was just a joke!” Frank protested. Alice managed to flop over onto the concrete, laying there for just a moment to catch her breath before hopping to her feet. Frank, seeming to realize that he actually was in deep shit, took off running.

“You _dick!_ “ Alice screeched, running after him. “I’m going to _kill_ you, you little--”

_“Language!_ ” Anne sang after her before bursting out laughing again.

“Do you think we should tell her that her swimsuit is halfway up her ass?” Mary mused.

“No!” Anne shook her head immediately. “Best let her find out on her own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely one of those "the music I'm listening to completely influenced what I wrote". I had a vague idea, knew where I wanted things to end up, and BOOM. A song came on and the piece basically wrote itself.
> 
> I'm beginning to get the impression that all may not be sunshine and roses at camp. Emma's noted multiple things that are old or need replacing, and Papa Green is on her to save money. Hmmm...
> 
> Title from "You Look Good" by Lady Antebellum


	4. raindrops keep falling on my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Henry has no idea what a gullywasher is.

“And _again_! A five, six, seven--Alexander, I _saw_ that! If you trip her again I _will_ be contacting your Mum and Dad...”

A few dark clouds had started to gather the moment dance rehearsals had gotten under way, and Emma was trying not to see it as an omen of what was to come. 

Someone (Emma had her money on Alice) had reminded Anne that Emma had been on the dance team all through high school. So Anne had pressed her into service, helping with choreography for the show, although so far all Emma had done was correct one buffalo step and shout a few half-hearted encouragements to the kiddos onstage. She kept one eye on the stage and one eye on the group of campers she was supposed to be supervising at the art tables, hoping that they didn’t tip over the glue or discover the glitter that she’d painstakingly hidden.

Anne crossed her arms, watching her group of dancers (who were definitely making up for any lack of skill with lots and lots of enthusiasm) with a critical eye. “It’s missing something, don’t you think? Maybe it’ll look better when they’re in costumes and have some props. Our George Washington needs a sword at the very least, don’t you think?”

Emma gave a vague nod and tried not to think of the way one of the pool noodles they’d liberated earlier had basically started to disintegrate the second she tried to paint it.

“Or maybe--”

Whatever Anne had been about to say was drowned out by the sound of the sky opening overhead. Emma thought she heard a clap of thunder, but it was all but drowned out by the rain. Anne cursed colorfully under her breath and Emma felt a little tug on the hem of her shirt. “Miss Emma, it’s rainin’!” one of her youngest campers squeaked.

“It sure is, honey.”

There was a little chorus of screams from the stage--some excited, some irritated--as the rain began to pour in from several leaks in the roof. “Oh, God,” Anne moaned, already running up onto the stage, herding the kids away from the streams of water like an overexcited border collie. “Buckets!” she called out to no one in particular. “I need buckets! Oh God, my stage!”

This was apparently the camper’s cue for all hell to break loose. A contingent of boys, Alexander among them, took off in search of the buckets. Another group of kids took the opportunity to go rogue and do their own dance, completely unfazed by the water raining down onto the stage. Emma heard someone knock over a box of craft supplies, and one of her campers burst into tears.

And in the midst of all the chaos, the doors of the barn slammed open.

The open doors and an ill-timed gust of wind caused even more rain to come sloshing into the barn. Several more of the campers screamed, some diving onto their artwork to keep it from getting wet. “Come on, men, forward march!” came Byron’s ringing voice and in tumbled Byron, Henry, and their group of ten-year-olds to take shelter from the rain.

Everyone was drenched, dripping water onto an already quite wet floor. Henry’s hair was sticking to his face, and as he crossed the threshold, he shook his head to get it out of his eyes. Emma stood still as a statue, watching. She could barely even hear Anne’s caterwauling anymore.

Henry stood in the doorway until his last camper was safely inside, then slammed both doors shut tight against the rain. “Do we have everybody?” he asked, but his question was ignored by his co-counselor.

“Excellent job, men! We’ll just stay here until the rain clears up. It shouldn’t be long.”

“Ah! Byron!” Anne seemed entirely unfazed by her boyfriend’s sudden appearance into her territory, as long as she could put him to work. “Don’t just stand there, get over here and help me!”

“No can do, babe, gotta get these boys something to change into. Ems, are there still some extra camp shirts in storage up here?”

Emma tore her eyes away from Henry and hoped to God he hadn’t noticed her staring. God, how much more obvious could she get? Anne would never let him live this down. “Um, I think so. They’re probably pretty old, but I think I saw a couple boxes--”

Byron executed what Emma supposed was a military turn and made his way to the storage area, whistling as he walked, his wet shoes squelching with every step. Anne looked like she wanted to commit murder right then and there, but Emma figured she would forgive Byron by tonight’s campfire, if not sooner. She just hoped the forgiveness wouldn’t happen in their cabin this time. The last time she’d walked in on Anne and Byron, she’d felt the need to bleach her eyes.

“Hey, boys, let’s try to stay against the wall, okay? Try not to get the floor any wetter than we have to.” Henry’s words caused heat to flood Emma’s face, and from the look Anne gave her, she knew she wasn’t being near as subtle as she had hoped. “This rain just came out of nowhere!” Henry said, glancing out the window with a smile. “Luckily we had just about finished with our hike.”

“It’s a gullywasher for sure,” Emma said in agreement.

Henry looked at her and burst out laughing. “A what?”

“What, they don’t call it that up north?” Emma teased. “Yankees don’t have gullywashers?” She pointed out the window “A quick, sudden torrential rainstorm. A gullywasher.”

Henry cocked his head to one side, considering. “I think where I’m from we call it a cloudburst. Not that we get them very often. But seriously, gullywasher? You made that up. I'm calling it. You're messing with me.”

“First of all, I am not. Secondly...Well, welcome to a Virginia summer. We get at least one every few days. You’ve just been lucky so far. They usually pass quickly, so you just kind of get used to ‘em.” She glanced up at the stage--the buckets had been found and strategically placed under the worst leaks. Anne had managed to calm the chaos and was sitting in a circle with the performers, engaged in what looked like an improv game. Emma glanced at Henry, watching him watch the rain. “I’m sorry your hike got ruined.”

“No worries. The kids were good sports about it.”

“Yo, Henry!” Byron called, jogging over with a shirt balled up in his hands. He had changed his own already, but it was a size too small and bared a good several inches of midriff. He seemed entirely unfazed by this. “Catch!”

Henry caught the other shirt as it was tossed to him, and Byron turned to the boys. “Sorry, dudes, couldn’t find any extras for you. Grown-up sizes only. But don’t worry, as soon as the rain stops we’ll go back to the cabin so you can change.”

Emma tried to catch Anne’s eye, but she was busy ogling Byron’s new look, her campers basically forgotten. And before Emma could say anything, Henry had yanked his own wet shirt from his body, setting it carefully on the floor so he could pull on the new one.

Emma tried not to look. Really, really she did. At least, that’s what she would claim when she and Anne told the story to Mary and Charlotte later.

He’d gotten a bit of a tan in the first few weeks of camp. She could see freckles dotting his shoulders, and his biceps! He didn’t have a six-pack, which Alice would dock him points for, but there was still definition in his abs and Emma couldn’t look away. Was it always so damn _hot_ in the barn?

Henry pulled on the shirt, smiling gratefully at Byron. The spell was broken, and Emma blinked a few times and ignored the smirk she knew Anne was sending her way. “Thanks, man,” Henry told Byron, gathering up his wet shirt off the ground and reaching for the one Byron had wadded in his hand. “I’ll add these to the laundry when we get back.” The camp logo emblazoned across his chest was fifteen years old at least, and probably smelled musty, but all Emma could think about was how well it fit him, how it would smell like him when he took it off later, his scent of campfire-and-trees that never seemed to leave him...

“Enjoying the show?” said a voice in Emma’s ear, her nose filled with the scent of Anne’s signature cinnamon gum. She linked her arm through Emma’s as the sun broke through the clouds at long last, warming the wet ground as the raindrops began to slow, then stop. “Someone’s got it bad.”

Emma couldn’t even argue with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merc had been asking for some "Henry's hike gets rained out" stage business for the camp AU, and I wasn't about to deny her. Also, more structural problems with camp continue to emerge.
> 
> Title comes from the song.


	5. I scream, you scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was really only a matter of time before Byron came to them for help.

“You...fell.”

“Yes.”

Jed narrowed his eyes, fixing Byron Hale with a piercing look. Bryon didn’t flinch under his gaze, but he did at least have the decency to look guilty. Mary, standing next to Jed, wished she could be anywhere but there. Back in her cramped cabin with the girls, in the art barn with Anne and Emma--hell, she’d even take lifeguard duty with Alice Green at this point.

Jed took a deep breath. “You _fell_...into the poison ivy.”

No one spoke for a moment, the only sound the faint melody of some acoustic indie--folk song that Mary didn’t know playing quietly over the speakers (Jed had won their daily battle over who got to control the music). Finally, Mary broke the silence.

“...With your pants down.” It wasn’t a question.

Byron’s face turned redder than the sunburn Mary had treated a few hours ago. “Yes! That’s what happened. I fell into poison ivy with my pants down. How many times are you going to make me say it?” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was shaking now. Mary wasn’t sure if it was from anger, embarrassment, or an overwhelming need to keep himself from scratching.

“I thought it would be fine, I went to bed, and this morning...well, you can imagine. Now can you _please_ give me something for it?” He spoke to Jed alone. “Please, help me out. I’m dying over here.”

Mary crossed her arms over her chest as Jed bit his lip, seeming to weigh his options. Was he really trying to figure out if he could help him, or was he just trying to torture Byron? Either seemed possible. 

“Fine. Go in the back room,” Jed said, indicating the makeshift sick room they had in the back of the health lodge, which contained a tiny cot in case a camper needed to lie down. Most of the cases the health lodge dealt with--scrapes, bug bites, skinned knees and the like--were treated in the big front room where they stood now, but Mary understood the need for privacy. She nodded at Jed--it was the first sensible thing he’d said all day. “One of us will be in with you in a minute.”

Well, that was short-lived. _One of us?_

Byron nodded gratefully and shuffled off to the back. Jed out after him without turning around. “Am I to assume we may also expect to see Miss Hastings soon for a...similar predicament?”

Byron cringed, turning even redder if possible. “I--maybe. You--you might. But I’m pretty sure I got the...worst of it.”

Jed nodded. “Great. One of us will be in with you in a minute.”

As soon as Byron had disappeared into the back, Mary whirled on Jed. “What the hell do you mean, _one of us_? You have to treat him!”

“Come here.” Jed’s fingers closed around Mary’s elbow before she had time to react, and he pulled her into the tiny office of the health lodge. There was a counter with a window that could open to the outside--it was where the campers who had to take medication came each day to get their meds--but it was closed now, so they could speak in relative private. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chastised, his voice low. “You’re going to be a doctor. You can treat him just as much as I can.”

Mary stared at him. This was like deja vu from care package day, and she didn’t care for it. “I k _now_ that. I cannot emphasize enough how much I _don’t want to_.”

Jed looked uncomfortable. “You think I do? Sharing a cabin with him is hard enough.”

“All the more reason that you should do it. You have...previous experience.”

Now he looked pained. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Phinney. Go on. It’ll be good for you. Isn’t doing things that scare you one of our camp mottos or something?”

“I am not scared,” Mary hissed. She frantically searched her mind for another argument. “ _You_ got to pick the music!”

It was a poor effort and they both knew it. Jed raised an eyebrow at her just as the door of the health lodge banged open. A tearful wail split the air as a little voice cried out. “I want Nurse Maryyyyyyyyyyy!”

“I know, baby, I know,” Charlotte crooned. She caught sight of Mary and Jed in the office and waved them out. “She’s right here, okay? She’ll make you feel better.”

Mary shot Jed a look of triumph. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Tell Byron I said hi. Make sure to wear your gloves.”

“This isn’t over, Phinney.”

\-------------

When Mary poked her head into the back room sometime later, Jed was sitting on the cot, looking exhausted and jaded as ever. Byron was nowhere to be seen--must have slipped out the back door. Jed looked up at Mary and managed a wan smile. “Ah, Phinney. Is our young friend still with us?”

She shook her head. “Char just left with her. She’s okay, she just rolled her ankle a bit. She’ll be fine.”

“She asked for you specifically. That’s good--you’re good with the kids.”

It was probably the closest he’d come to complimenting her all summer. “Thanks. I’m thinking about going into pediatrics.”

“You’d be good at it.”

“Is Byron...”

Jed rolled his eyes in a way that would rival Anne on her best day. “He’ll live. If it helps at all, it was mostly on his ass.”

_“Mostly?”_

“Best not to think too much about it.” He fixed Mary with a traumatized look, and after a moment, she burst out laughing. He laughed too, shaking his head. “They don’t pay us enough for this damn job.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mary had to agree. “God, you look miserable. Thanks for taking one for the team. Um...can I make it up to you?”

The question flew out of Mary’s mouth before she had time to think about it. He looked at her curiously and she hoped he hadn’t taken it the wrong way. An image flew into her mind unbidden of her and Jed pressed against the wall of the health lodge...or trying to share the tiny cot he was currently perched on...

“I mean--candy,” she sputtered. “I got a bunch of candy from home--I’m more than happy to share--”

Jed looked at her thoughtfully apparently oblivious to her discomfort, then stood up. “I will take you up on your offer, but I have something else in mind. Come on, follow me.”

“W-what?” Mary asked, not comprehending. 

He brushed past her in the doorway, a spicy scent filling Mary’s nose as he did so. Campfire smoke for sure, but there was something else...

“You’re going to buy me an ice cream. Come on, let’s go.”

Not knowing what else to do, she followed him. A wall of humidity assaulted her as soon as she left the air-conditioned cocoon of the health lodge.They locked the door and flipped the sign over so that cheerful woodland creatures proclaimed to all that they would “be right back.” Jed shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and they set off across the main part of camp towards the snack bar.

The snack bar at Camp Green Wood was a relatively recent addition--one of the only new buildings built in the last five years. It sold everything from ice cream to chips and candy, and parents of campers put money into an account at the beginning of the summer so the kids could purchase snacks without actually handling any currency. Mary hadn’t actually been there yet, but she had to admit that it was a pretty genius idea.

“So, that little girl who came in,” Jed said as they walked. “She called you Nurse Mary.”

Mary blushed, giving a little shrug. “A couple of them have started doing that. I’m not really sure why. I guess _‘Going-to-be-a-doctor-someday Mary_ ’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it. I don’t really mind. They’re little kids. If it helps them to think of me as a nurse, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“No, it’s just interesting, that’s all. I’m pretty sure most of them just call me Jed.”

They passed the administration office, where raised voices could be heard even through the closed window. Mary thought she heard the words “ _cannot afford_ ” before a door slammed and cut them off. She looked at Jed, both of them walking faster as if trying to stay as far as possible from whatever the Greens were arguing about.

They reached the snack bar and Mary looked up at the menu, considering her options. The caramel sundae sounded good, but she glanced at Jed and asked, “I haven’t had anything from here yet. What’s good?”

He looked at her in shock, and Mary crossed her arms defensively. “What? I’m busy. I haven’t had time. Seriously, what’s good here.”

“Forgive her, she’s new,” Jed told the guy behind the counter. He turned and looked over Mary critically, as if appraising her. “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple enough question.”

It actually wasn’t, but Mary didn’t feel like pointing that out. “Sure.”

“Mary Phinney. I’m gonna need a more definitive answer than that. Do you trust me.”

He leaned in close to her, maybe a little too close. Mary’s heartbeat sped up just a bit. _Fuck._

“I trust you.” 

“Okay. Now that that’s settled.” He backed off, and Mary could breathe again. “Favorite flavor of slush?”

“Huh? S--Strawberry.”

A strange look came into his eyes, surprise and satisfaction all at once. He turned back to the order window. “Two strawberry glaciers, please. On her tab.”

Their order taken, Jed ushered Mary towards the pick-up window. “What’s a glacier?” Mary asked, but he waved her question away.

“You’ll find out.” Jed drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited. Mary watched him as discreetly as she could. He finally looked like he was a bit more at ease, something that until now she had only observed when he was around the campfire with his guitar. It was as if he and Mary had entered into a truce, at least for now--the bickering put on hold at least until they’d finished their ice cream. And maybe...

_Girlfriend, Mary. He has a girlfriend, remember?_

“Two strawberry glaciers!” From behind the counter, the other guy produced two cups filled to the brim with strawberry slush, topped with a generous dollop of soft serve vanilla ice cream in the middle. Mary took hers and regarded it with curiosity. This hadn’t been what she had expected.

“Thanks, Kendrick,” Jed told the guy, taking his own glacier and waving goodbye. There was a little bench along the side of the snack bar, and this is where Jed led Mary, sitting down and indicating what she should sit next to him. “I have to admit, I didn’t have you pegged as a strawberry girl. It’s my favorite, too.”

“What kind did you think I’d like?” Mary asked, genuinely curious.

Jed studied her intently for a minute, and Mary tried to shake the feeling that he was looking at her under a microscope, all of her flaws and secrets--even how she felt about him--on display for him to see.

“Maybe green apple,” he said finally. “Sweet, but with a bite, too.” He held out his glacier to Mary. “Cheers, Phinney.”

She tapped her paper cup against his and dug her spoon in, making sure to get both ice cream and slush on the first bite. The minute it touched her tongue, her eyes widened, and Jed laughed.

“Right? Best slushies I’ve ever had. I don’t know how they do it. And the soft serve is just...”

“Perfect. It tastes like all the best things about summer.”

“That’s it. That’s it exactly.” Jed punctuated his words with a huge bite of his own. He got a bit of soft-serve in the corner of his mouth and Mary tried not to imagine leaning over to wipe it away...or placing her lips there just enough to--

"I--I can’t believe that just happened, by the way?” she stammered, desperate for a change of subject that would make her stop imagining the way his lips probably tasted like strawberries now too. Even if the subject change meant bringing up Byron again.

Jed, apparently feeling the same way, made a face. “Come on, Mary. We’re _eating_.”

“I just mean, what are the odds?”

Jed arched an eyebrow at her. “I think you know the odds probably more than anyone, considering you bunk with Anne.”

Mary’s face turned red, and she stared at her ice cream for a few seconds. Finally, Jed laughed. “We do have a bit of a...reputation, you might say, for debauchery among the staff. At least in the last few years. It’s not something we’re proud of. At least, I’m not proud of it. To be frank, I’m not sure why the good people of Virginia continue to trust us with their children. Something tells me the Greens spend a good deal of time and money to keep our public image squeaky-clean. Although, numbers _are_ down this year, so you never know...”

“Are they?” Mary asked. It was the first she’d heard of such a thing.

“Yeah, there’s a few cabins that aren’t being used at all this year. Usually we’re full up, with a waiting list and everything. It’s just kind of weird, that’s all. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though.”

They fell silent, just enjoying their glaciers and the brief respite from the heat that the shade provided. Anne happened to walk by with a group of campers, spotted Mary, and did a series of discreet but increasingly lascivious gestures that, blessedly, Jed did not see. Mary waved her away, and Anne turned her attention back to her group, but not before winking suggestively at Mary and cackling loudly.

“Are you liking it here?” Jed asked, scraping his spoon against the ice cream dregs in the bottom of his cup.

Mary was a bit taken aback--given Jed’s previous treatment of her, the endless back-and-forth bickering that they usually participated in, this wasn’t a question she had been preparing to get from him. But he looked genuinely interested, and she nodded. “I am. It’s different than I thought. Less work, more...”

“Sitting around wondering how many more times you can inventory medical supplies and listen to camp songs?” Jed offered. Mary laughed.

“Yeah. But the people are nice, and it’s good work experience. So yeah, I do. I like it here.”

“Good.” Jed held out his hand for her empty cup, which she handed to him. He tossed both in the trash, then stood up. “Because we’re glad to have you here, and I’m afraid the health lodge awaits us.”

“Yeah, we should be heading back.”

“And Phinney?”

“Yeah?”

“The next time Byron Hale comes to us with poison ivy in a... _delicate_ location, _you_ are dealing with it.”

Mary allowed herself to smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a glacier after reading this, I'm sorry. I have no idea whether they're just a Northern thing or not, but my summer camp had them, as do many ice cream places around here.
> 
> I referenced the care packages that middlemarch talked about in her fabulous "Climbing on Rainbows". If you haven't read that yet, get on it!
> 
> The title of course comes from "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream." That it also works out well with Byron's...predicament, is just pure luck ;) ~~Please practice safe sex and never engage in activities near poison ivy~~


	6. heard it through the grapevine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gossip in the girls' cabin.

_“Ladies,_ ” Anne’s voice greeted Mary as soon as she opened the cabin door. “I have _news._ ”

“Is it that the camp laundry lost all your pants?” Mary asked, eyeing Anne warily. She lounged on her bunk wearing a floral tank top that proclaimed “Nope. Not today” and a pair of turquoise underpants with what looked like flamingoes on them--underpants that were showing a bit more skin than Mary was comfortable with. Of course, it was hardly the most indecent thing that Anne had worn. She supposed they ought to consider themselves lucky that she was wearing a top.

“It’s hotter than balls. I cannot be expected to wear clothing in conditions like this.”

“Amen,” Charlotte piped up from her own bunk as Emma helped Mary hobble over to hers. A pair of truly ancient wooden crutches had been found for Mary in health lodge storage, but the cabin was so tiny and cramped, they were pretty much impossible to use. Instead, they leaned against the doorway, waiting for her to need them again when she ventured out.

Mary lowered herself onto her bunk and glanced at Charlotte. She was sprawled out on her stomach on her bed, fanning herself with a magazine, but she was at least wearing shorts with her bikini top.

“Anyway, don’t pay attention to her,” Charlotte added, gesturing to Anne. “She’s just a bit salty because her card got declined at the liquor store.”

“What?” Emma asked, looking up from where she’d been idly flipping through an old issue of _Southern Living_ magazine that she’d swiped from her mom’s office. “That’s...weird.”

Anne made a face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, I spotted her and she owes me. It is weird though, Friday’s always payday. We tried to check her account online, but you know how wifi is around here.”

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Emma stammered. “A computer glitch, maybe? I bet if you check tomorrow it’ll be fine.”

“What’s your news, Anne?” Mary asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Right. That.” Anne sat up, tossing her hair. “Jeliza is no more.”

“Jeliza?” Mary asked, not comprehending.

“Jed and his girlfriend, Liza. Jeliza being the portmanteau version of their names.”

“Like Brangelina or something,” Charlotte clarified. “Which, by the way, I still think is dumb. I hope you don’t have a cutesy smushed-together name for me and Samuel.”

“We do,” Anne countered. “Cham.”

Charlotte grimaced. “Ew.”

“Like champagne or something. But _anyway_. Liza ended it with Jed, which means that he is wide open should someone want to, you know...make a play.” 

Mary idly played with a loose thread on her quilt and tried not to think about how it had felt to lie on it with Jed on top of her, his lips on her neck and her arms around him. She supposed she should be thanking all her lucky stars that even though news of the breakup had spread, her hookup with Jed was still under wraps. She could feel Emma’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up.

“That’s...a bummer. For him, I mean,” Mary mumbled.

“Please. That girl was a piece of work,” Charlotte said immediately.

“But this is still major news. The last time we had a breakup this juicy was--” Anne cut herself off as Charlotte shot her a harsh look, gesturing at Emma and shaking her head. Emma stared down at the magazine in her lap like she wanted to jump into it, like it was one of those chalk drawings in Mary Poppins.

“--A while ago,” Anne finished. “And--”

Her gaze landed on Mary, and she narrowed her eyes. “Wait a second,” she whispered, heaving herself off her bed and crossing to Mary’s side. Before Mary could react, Anne had taken hold of her face in both her hands and tilted her head to the side, revealing a purpling bruise on the side of her neck. “Mary Phinney, is that a _hickey_?”

“What? No. Just a bruise. Probably left over from when I fell.”

“You suck at lying, Mary,” Charlotte admonished, but she was laughing. Anne had already retreated back to her own bunk and in no time was holding up a half-empty bottle of wine in a silent toast.

“I knew it, I _knew_ it!”

“Anne, please don’t go calling the cavalry about this, we’re trying to keep it on the down-low--”

“Good luck with that,” Emma said with a giggle, accepting the paper cup of wine that Anne offered.

“Get it, Mary!” Charlotte cried, doing a little shimmy.

“If it makes it any better at all, nothing happened until he told me about the breakup. I would never--”

“Yes, you’re a saint, we know,” Anne said dryly. “You want some or not?”

Mary accepted her own cup with a sheepish smile and a blush.

“To our dear Nurse Mary getting some at last!” Anne cried, smacking her cup against Mary’s and making some of the liquid slosh out. “And Byron better pay up. He said the two of you would hold out at least til after July 4th.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the moral of the story is that I should post things when I'm done with them, otherwise more things will get posted and mess up the timeline. Not that I'm complaining, because seeing y'all have fun in this AU has been an absolute joy to read.
> 
> So, we have the girls finding out about the big breakup. Chronologically, this takes place after all of my chapters so far, after middlemarch's Lean on Me, but before "Where the boys are", before "Shine on Harvest Moon" by Mercurygray, and before (I think) fericita's two pieces. I think. We're all smart cookies, we can figure it out!
> 
> I own a modified version of Anne's shirt. I got it at a thrift store for like three bucks and I love it dearly.
> 
> Title comes from the song by Marvin Gaye. Hopefully it's not stuck in your head now ;)


	7. with a little help from my friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte dispenses fashion advice.

“Definitely not that one. It’s that shade of gray. It washes you out.”

Mary groaned and yanked another shirt over her head, tossing it onto the pile with the rest of the rejects. Part of her was glad that Anne and Emma were busy with extra rehearsals for the Fourth of July showcase, if for no reason other than she was sure that Anne would have some snarky remark up her sleeve about how now it was Mary who was parading half-naked around the cabin. Still, as much as she valued Charlotte’s opinion, Mary wondered if having the input of Anne and Emma would make this task easier, or at least a bit more bearable.

She put her hands on her hips, surveying the contents of her wardrobe strewn about her bunk and the floor. “I’m so sorry, Char. I owe you one for helping me out with this. I swear I’m not usually the kind of person who ties herself in knots wondering what to wear for--”

“A da-ate?” Charlotte sang, turning the word into two syllables. Mary threw a peasant blouse at her in response, but Charlotte’s quick reflexes caught it before it could smack her in the face.

“It’s not a date,” she protested. “I mean, it is. But it’s not like a date-date. It’s just that it’s the first time Jed and I are going somewhere outside of camp, and it feels like a big deal even though I keep trying to tell myself it isn’t. It’s just dinner. It’s just to some little diner at the end of the dirt road--”

“Hey, do _not_ diss that diner. Get the double cheeseburger and onion rings, thank me later. Or the pulled pork, oh god, I have had dreams about that pulled pork that are nearly _indecent._ ”

“You’re not helping.”

Charlotte grinned up at her. “Really? Me rhapsodizing about pulled pork isn’t helpful?”

Mary groaned and sank into her bunk, careful not to jostle her hurt ankle. Charlotte sat up and carefully folded the shirt that Mary had chucked at her, playing with the tassels. “So, let me be a little more helpful, then. Why does it feel different? Why is it freaking you out so much?”

“I don’t know!” Mary groaned again, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s the first time we’re going to hang out outside the context of the camp. What if we run out of things to say together when we’re not crammed inside the health lodge or around the fire or sharing a glacier?”

Charlotte shot her another cheeky grin. “Baby girl, it’s you, and it’s Jed. I think the chances of that happening are pretty damn close to zero. He’s absolutely crazy about you, Mary. Trust me.”

“If you say so.”

“Why does it feel different with him than with your Foreign Exchange Hottie?” Charlotte asked, and Mary was startled--she’d forgotten she’d even told the girls about that.

“Gustave? I don’t know. That was different because...there was an expiration date, I guess. We both knew he was going back to Germany at the end of the year.”

“And the end of this summer isn’t an expiration date?” 

Mary knew that she wasn’t making much logical sense, and she felt even more awful that she’d roped Charlotte into helping her when she was clearly such a basket case. “Maybe it is. Maybe it should be. But it feels like it might not be. It feels like it might be...more. And I know that long distance relationships never work, and we’re both going into our last year of school and things are more important than ever and being in a relationship would just be a distraction for both of us, really--”

Charlotte let out a very un-Charlotte squeal and jumped up from her bed, giving Mary an enthusiastic but still gentle hug. “Mary! I had no idea things had gotten so serious!”

“They probably haven’t,” Mary said flatly. “For all I know, I’m the only one feeling this way, and I’ve totally misinterpreted. Which is another reason to be nervous.”

“Okay. We need to step up our game. Try on that blue dress again, the one with the total vintage vibe? I think I happened to bring the perfect pair of shoes to go with it.”

Mary stared at her before smiling. “Thank you for putting up with my absolute insanity.”

“You can thank me by giving me every last detail of your date. And a to-go box of that pulled pork sandwich!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful middlemarch prompted me with Mary, Charlotte, and gray! 
> 
> Continuity-wise, I think this takes place after everything that's been written so far? Feel free to correct me on that!
> 
> Title comes from the classic song. Charlotte and I are not responsible for any pulled pork cravings you may have after reading this chapter ;)


	8. no business like show business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The script had called for a quick and gentle kiss.

“I don’t know about this, Anne,” Emma said, adjusting her mob cap so that she could see her friend properly. The addition of the counselors to the Fourth of July showcase had been an extraordinarily last minute decision, one that was prompted by a minor mutiny among the campers who didn’t want to participate in any “mushy stuff” in their play. Anne, playwright extraordinaire and never one to back down from a challenge, had taken the news in stride and recruited her coworkers, and now Emma somehow found herself playing, of all people, Martha Washington in a brief cameo.

“What’s the problem? If you’d rather play Eliza Hamilton, I’m sure Charlotte would be more than happy to switch.”

“We’re already risking a cease-and-desist letter from the Hamilton people. Let’s not push our luck,” Charlotte deadpanned from across the stage, where she was doing some hasty repair work to one of the costumes, her needle moving in and out of the fabric at almost warp speed.

“No, I mean, us being in it at all. It’s supposed to be the kids’ show, and they’ve worked so hard. I don’t want to steal the spotlight from them.”

“You’re not. They’re still onstage for the bulk of the time. You just have the goodbye scene with George Washington and then you’re back on stage manager duty. And not a moment too soon,” she added, lowering her voice, “I trust your sister with that job about as far as I can throw her.”

“The parents are expecting their kids onstage, not us.”

“Emma. It’s going to be fine. Now can we please get this scene done? Then we can segue into the big battle scene before we take a break.”

“Hey. You okay?” Henry appeared from nowhere, wearing a ruffled linen shirt and a tricorn hat that looked a size or two too small. Somehow, he even managed to look good in this getup, and Emma blushed as Henry reached out and put a reassuring hand on her arm. She thought of their trip down the zipline, their kiss on the dock, and her blush only deepened.

“I’m fine. I’m just a little nervous about...all of this,” she waved her hand to indicate the stage, the production, the rest of the summer in general.

“Come on, I’m sure you’ll be great,” he said, lowering his voice. “I was really excited when Anne picked you to be my Martha.”

“It’s not that--not stage fright or anything. I’ve been in way too many dance team competitions and high school musicals for that. I’m worried about the show. I’m worried Anne might have...taken things too far.”

“It is ambitious, but I think that’s just Anne’s MO,” Henry agreed.

“Yeah, but the parents have certain...expectations, and seeing us onstage, for however brief, doesn’t really fit that. We had enough angry parents last year when the show decided to focus on the battle of Gettysburg. I don’t want to risk anyone getting so pissed that they...pull their kids out before the end of the session or anything.”

Emma had been growing steadily more worried about the camp as the June days passed and July beckoned. Certain things were beginning to add up in her mind--Anne and Charlotte and Byron’s late paychecks (though they had eventually been paid), Jed mentioning that the air conditioning in the health lodge was on the fritz, the endless list of repairs that never seemed to actually get fixed and the way her father kept telling Emma to try to get Anne to do things cheaply for the pageant. The way her parents were definitely arguing more than usual, and how they’d stop whenever Emma walked in...

“Well, you definitely have to tell me the rest of that Gettysburg story later,” Henry said, rubbing Emma’s arm gently. He left a trail of goosebumps in his wake, but not in a bad way. Emma leaned into his touch instinctively. “But I think it’s all going to be fine. Anne knows what she’s doing, and most of those parents are going to be so thrilled seeing their little ones up onstage, they won’t even notice what we do.”

“I hope you’re right,” Emma whispered as Anne called for quiet on set and started the scene.

Emma had to hand it to Anne--her writing was good. She and one of the most studious campers, Molly, had even spent a day braving the temperamental camp wifi in order to find actual quotes from historical figures to use as dialogue. And yet Anne had modified the dialogue somehow so it didn’t feel stilted or old-fashioned--it felt natural as Emma, as Martha Washington, said goodbye to her husband on the eve of battle. Anne’s work might not get a ton of points for historical accuracy, but it made up for it in heart.

“Be safe, my love,” Emma Green as Martha Washington whispered. Henry looked at her with eyes shining with determination and passion--he should have been a theatre major, with the look on his face...

The stage directions said that George gives Martha a quick and gentle kiss. Emma leaned up, intending to do just that, but the moment her lips touched Henry’s, she was transported back to the other night on the dock, the way he had kissed her as if he had nothing to lose. When she’d kissed him back with everything that she had been trying to keep inside since the first day she’d met him up in the loft and he’d helped her look for costumes.

Emma’s arms came around Henry’s neck. He pulled her closer, and Emma forgot about the rehearsal entirely. He tasted sweet and he smelled like sunscreen and she never, never wanted to let go.

“Cut! Cut! _Enough!_ ”

Anne’s voice startled Emma enough that she pulled away, although she kept her arms around Henry’s neck. The rehearsal was in an uproar--campers were cheering and laughing (Emma saw a few looking at them in disgust or horror, dismayed that the “mushy stuff” had made it into the show after all). Jed gave a wolf whistle, one that prompted Mary to elbow him so sharply that he almost dropped the pool-noodle sword he was holding. Byron was yelling at Samuel over some bet or another that had been made between them, Alice was standing in a corner of the stage with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring daggers at Emma, Charlotte was applauding and trying to corral a small group of campers who were currently bubbling over with questions about Emma and Henry and how long they’d liked each other and were they going to get _married?_

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Emma whispered, resting her forehead against Henry’s for a moment. He pulled her close, kissing her hair and allowing her to hide her bright-red face from view for a moment.

“I’m not,” Henry said, and Emma could tell that he was smiling.

“Take five!” Anne called out exasperatedly, throwing her hands into the air. 

“Come on. It’ll take them way longer than five minutes to settle everybody down. I’ll buy you a glacier.”

Emma took Henry’s hand and strode out of the barn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercurygray asked for a "the script made us do it" kiss. And since those kisses are a particular catnip of mine, how could I refuse?
> 
> Title comes from the song from Annie Get Your Gun!


	9. just around the riverbend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the annual Camp Green Wood canoe race!

“You are going down, Foster, mark my words!”

“I seriously doubt that. Sam and I have got this on lock. If you want, you can just give me your money now? Might save you some time later on.” As he spoke, Jed twirled his canoe paddle in one hand, grinning as if he was already convinced of his victory.

Mary adjusted the ancient Red Sox cap she wore on her head and cleared her throat, making both boys look at her. Jed’s face lit up at the sight of her, and she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. “Sorry, am I interrupting a pissing contest? Because I can come back later.”

“ _No,_ ” Byron insisted. “Jed here thinks he’s a shoe-in for the canoe race, but he doesn’t know anything about strategy. Stringfellow may suck ass, but he’s on the crew team at his school. There’s no way we’re going to lose.”

Mary made a face. “Just cool it on the trash talk, okay? The kiddos might hear you.”

Camp Green Wood’s annual canoe race--a tradition dating back to 1934, if legend could be believed--was one of the highlights of the summer. Always held on the third day of July, it was the unofficial start of the Fourth of July celebrations at camp. In teams of two or three, campers and counselors alike competed for bragging rights and the coveted Green Wood Cup (really just an old trophy that had seen better days). The entire camp turned out in full force to watch and participate, even the Green family who served as the judges. It was the perfect day for it--sunny, not too hot--and ll of camp was buzzing with excitement and activity. Tomorrow, more parents would show up to see their children in the pageant and participate in carnival games and activities on the lawn. Mary wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it before.

“This is amazing,” she remarked to Jed, who put an arm around her.

“Yeah, the Fourth is when we really pull out all the stops. You should have seen it last year. The Greens sprung for inflatables for the carnival and everything. Sam and I did that inflatable sumo wrestling game.”

“And I missed it? Tragic,” Mary deadpanned. “No inflatables this year?”

“Guess not. It’ll still be cool, though. There’s games, a dunk tank, and of course, the show at the end of the night.”

“Don’t remind me. We still have some Revolutionary War soldiers who would rather sing _Frozen 2_ instead of the songs in the script.”

“It’ll be great. Where’s Charlotte?” Jed asked, looking around. “It’s almost time to report to your canoe.”

Mary smiled. “There’s been a slight change to the roster. Molly wanted Charlotte on her team instead, and you know we can’t say no to our campers.”

“So who are you racing with?”

“Hello, lads,” Anne’s voice came from behind them, and Mary turned to face her partner with a grin. “Are you ready to eat our wake?”

\----------------

“Now, the rules are simple,” James Green Sr.’s voice drawled over the slightly crackly microphone. The teams had assembled--Mary and Anne, Jed and Samuel, Charlotte and Molly, Byron and Frank, Henry and two of the boys in his cabin group. Mary looked over at Emma, perched in her canoe in front of her sister. Mary knew that Emma had wanted to be on Henry’s team, but apparently the Green sisters raced together every year and some traditions were not meant to be broken. She caught Emma’s eye, and Emma waved.

“No fraternizing with the competition!” Alice hissed.

Mr. Green was still explaining the rules--no interfering with another’s canoe, first one across the lake wins, anyone who capsizes is disqualified. Next to him, wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt and Ray-Bans, Emma’s brother Jimmy stood ready to start the race. Mary hadn’t seen much of him since camp started--he was usually holed up in he administration office--but apparently even he couldn’t be kept away from the race.

“You ready?” Anne whispered, adjusting her grip on her canoe paddle.

“Born ready,” Mary replied. In reality, canoeing wasn’t really her forte--she was more of a kayak girl--but she didn’t think it mattered much, at this point. She knew that they weren’t going to win anyway.

“You’re going down, Phinney,” Jed whispered from his spot next to her.

“You wish.”

“On your mark! Get set! Go!”

There was a slight delay as Jimmy couldn’t get the starting gun to go off properly, but the minute it sounded, they were off. The air was filled with the sound of splashes and teams shouting instructions to each other. Mary, in the front of the canoe, tried her best to do what Anne told her. They sailed past Emma and Alice, who were already bickering, and failed to notice that they were dangerously close to Frank and Byron’s canoe.

“Emma, watch out!” Mary cried, but it was too late. Frank’s paddle caught hers as he and Byron flew by, causing the canoe to list to one side.Before Emma could right the canoe, it tipped, dumping both her and Alice into the water.

“Emma, you idiot!” Alice shrieked. “Frank, you did that on purpose! Interference! Daddy, they did that on purpose!”

But Mr. Green was either too far away to hear, or just didn’t care. Emma treaded water and wrung out her long hair as Mary and Anne passed her, followed closely by Henry and his boys. “Good luck!” Emma called out after them, but Mary was pretty sure that she wasn’t speaking to her and Anne.

“Okay, they totally cheated, right? Frank tipped their canoe on purpose?”

“Absolutely. He does it every year. Not always them, but always _somebody_. Never gets caught. There’s no justice in the fight for the Green Wood Cup.”

Even Byron seemed to be arguing with his teammate, but his words were drowned out by another splash as Henry and his campers spilled out of their canoe. Henry managed to right it almost immediately and quickly scooped the boys back in, holding onto the side to keep it steady as all three of them roared with laughter.

“Come on, they’re dropping like flies. We might have a chance.” Mary dipped her paddle back into the lake and propelled them forward.

In the end, it still wasn’t enough to catch up to Charlotte and Molly. Mary watched as Sam, whose canoe had been neck and neck with Charlotte’s up til now, stopped paddling even though Jed shouted at him to go faster. It allowed Charlotte and Molly to take the lead, with Jed and Sam coming in second and a team of older campers coming in third. Mary and Anne finished in a respectable fourth place. Frank and Byron, after leaving much of the pack behind after capsizing the Green girls, had gotten stuck in some reeds and had to forfeit, which was perhaps the best news of all.

As Mary and Anne disembarked their canoe, Samuel picked up Charlotte and swung her around, to the delight of Molly and the rest of the campers. Anne disappeared to scold and console Byron, and Emma and Henry were sitting on nearby log, towels wrapped around their shoulders as they shared some cotton candy from the snack bar. Alice, still dripping wet (but minus the runny mascara this time) was trying to convince her mother that Frank had cheated. Jed sidled up to Mary and slipped his hand into hers.

“Sam let Charlotte win.”

“I know.”

“You let him.”

“I can neither confirm or deny that. All I will say is that some things are more important than winning. Besides, second place is nothing to sneeze at.”

“You know, you can be really sweet when you want to be.”

“Don’t tell anyone, Phinney. After all, I’ve still got my reputation to consider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken, and the people wanted a canoe race!
> 
> Title from the Disney song.


	10. kiss me once cuz you know I had a long night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the race, Emma and Henry talk

After the chaos of the canoe race earlier in the day, the lake was calm and quiet now. Charlotte had French-braided Emma’s hair after her dunk in the lake, and she sat on the dock, dangling her feet in the water and playing idly with the end of her braid.She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear Henry approaching until he was right next to her.

“Hey. This seat taken?”

She shook her head, and he lowered himself onto the dock next to her. They sat in silence for a few seconds, watching the little ripples on the lake and the growing darkness around them as the sun set. “You okay?” Henry asked finally, reaching for her hand with a bit of hesitation. Emma let him take it, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Henry could be so shy sometimes--even now, when they were basically dating even though they hadn’t made it official--and she wanted to put him at ease. “It’s just, I saw you leave the campfire...”

“I’m fine. I just...didn’t really feel like socializing.”

“Are you still nervous about tomorrow?”

“You could say that.” Henry traced little patterns across her skin, and it was distracting in the best way. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal was okay, given that everyone was still hyped up on adrenaline from the race...”

“And glaciers, and cotton candy, and s’mores,” Henry added with a grin.

“Good point. Those parents tomorrow better prepare themselves to see their sugar-overloaded children.” They both laughed, and Emma sighed.

Immediately, Henry’s arm came around her, and she leaned into him, taking comfort from his warmth and closeness. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Have you noticed anything...weird, I guess, with your paycheck? Like, it was late or something? Because I know that Anne has, and Byron and Charlotte, and I was just wondering...”

Henry waited a minute before he answered. “Yeah. I mean, it’s no big deal. It was just a couple of days late--”

“Henry, that is a big deal! It isn’t fair and you shouldn’t have to worry about things like that. This job is supposed to be--that isn’t how this is supposed to work!”

“Hey, hey, Emma, it’s okay. It was just once, I got paid, and it hasn’t happened again. Yeah, it’s weird, but...”

“I’m worried it’s more than just weird.” Emma sighed, leaning further into Henry. He turned his head to the side and kissed her on the top of her head, and she closed her eyes. “I’m worried something’s really wrong. Things aren’t adding up--literally. I’m worried the camp might be in trouble.”

“Have you tried talking to your parents about it?”

Emma laughed harshly. “You’ve met my parents, right? They don’t talk about stuff like that. At best they’d laugh and say I’m worrying over nothing, and at worst they’d lie to me.”

“I still think you should try to talk to them. I’m sure if you explained that you’re concerned, they’d tell you the truth.”

Henry sounded so sweet and rational that Emma wanted to cry. But he didn’t know the Green family like she did. “Maybe,” she said uneasily, staring out over the lake. A bat swooped down over the water, and Emma knew the mosquitos were going to start swarming soon, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She moved away from Henry just enough to look into his eyes. She desperately needed to change the subject, even though she was the one who had brought it up. “Do you want to go in?”

Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes widen. “Into the lake?”

“No, into your cabin, silly.” Instantly she regretted her choice of words, because she could tell that he took them seriously. He started to get up, and Emma grabbed onto him to hold him still. “Yes, in the lake. That’s what I meant.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, night swimming at Green Wood is like a rite of passage. I’m surprised the boys haven’t tossed you in yet.”

“Threats have been made. I’ve been able to avoid it so far.” He eyed the lake warily, as if it was really that much different at night than during the day. Emma had seen him with his campers during General Swimming--she’d tried hard not to stare at him when his shirt was off, but sometimes she couldn’t help it--and knew he was comfortable in the water. “Won’t it be cold?”

“Might feel good in this heat.” Emma grinned. “You get used to it quick, I promise.”

“Easy for you to say. You grew up swimming in this lake. I’ve seen the pictures in your mom’s office.”

Emma wasn’t sure whether she was embarrassed or proud of this new development. Part of her wished she’d been able to show those pictures to Henry herself, though.

“You want to?” she asked again. “I mean, you can say no. I won’t mind. But if you want to...”

He considered it for a moment, then smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Emma grinned at him, standing up and feeling very grateful for the fact that she was wearing her swimsuit under her clothes (really, it was her backup suit--her nicer one had gotten soaked during the canoe race--but it was better than going in in her underwear). She pulled her shirt over her head, loving the way Henry turned away slightly to give her privacy, even though it wasn’t really needed. He tugged his shirt off too, dropping it onto the dock beside her clothes, but keeping his cargo shorts on.

“Are you ready?” she asked, offering him her hand.

“Whenever you are.”

“One, two, three!”

They took off running and jumped together.

The lake was cold, colder than Emma had anticipated. She popped up first, and Henry was right behind her, spluttering and wiping water from his eyes. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “I’m going to find a way to get you back for this.”

“A pastor promising revenge? That doesn’t sound right.” She treaded water until the cold wasn’t quite so apparent, then took hold of Henry’s hand under the water.

“I’m really glad you came to camp this summer,” she said.

“I’m glad too. And whatever happens with the show tomorrow, it’ll be all right.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and Emma didn’t care about the cold lake at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done from a prompt from hufflepuffhermione with Emmry and a kiss at dusk. Title from Taylor Swift's "Paper Rings."


	11. born in the USA: part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fourth of July has finally arrived! But at Camp Green Wood, things rarely go as planned...

_ Camp Green Wood Annual Fourth of July Visit Day! _

_ Welcome parents and guardians! Here is the schedule for Camp Green Wood’s Annual Vist Day and Fourth of July Spectacular! We look forward to seeing you reconnect with your campers and hope you enjoy yourselves today. _

_ 7:00 AM--Wake Up _

The sound of the bugle was always the worst on Visit Day, Emma decided as the all-too familiar tune reached her ears. She thought about covering her head with her pillow, to try to salvage a few precious extra seconds of sleep while she still could. But, she decided as she heard Mary--always the first to rise out of all of them, Emma was surprised that she wasn’t up and at ‘em already this morning--climb out of the bed next to Emma’s, that would just prolong the inevitable. She sighed and threw the covers back, shivering a little. It was predicted to be a hot one today, but for some reason, the cabin was always chilly in the mornings.

“The day of reckoning has arrived, ladies,” Charlotte’s voice came from underneath the covers on her own bed. Mary laughed at her dour tone.

“Last night you said you were excited about the showcase.”

“Well, that was last night. This is this morning.”

“Amen,” Emma echoed as she stretched and yawned. She glanced at Anne’s bed, whose occupant hadn’t moved. “Anne? You alive in there?”

“If I say I’m not, will your parents cancel the show?”

“Come on,” Mary protested, already dressed and lacing up her sneakers. “It’s going to be fine. The dress rehearsal last night was--”

“Only moments away from a disaster at any given moment?”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Mary corrected, a slight edge to her tone already. “It was fine. And tonight is going to go just fine too. The kids know their stuff, for the most part, and the parents will love it. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“And even if it isn’t…” Charlotte said dramatically, gathering her toiletries on her way to the shower, “we have the rest of the day to get through first.”

_ 7:15 AM--Flagpole ceremony and morning prayer _

  
  
  


_ 7:30 AM--Breakfast _

“Someone needs to tell my girls to go easy on the waffles,” Charlotte said with a grimace, looking over to one of her twelve-year-olds as she balanced a precarious plate of Belgian waffles smothered in strawberries and whipped cream. “The last thing we need is another incident like last year, and I already know there are some nervous stomachs in my group.”

“Don’t remind me,” Anne said softly, placing her head down on the table. Emma absently rubbed her shoulders, hoping to comfort her, but Anne just shrugged her off. To Mary, Emma explained, “Waffles are only for visit day. The kids wait for them all summer. Some go a little...overboard.”

“And that’s what we need on the day we’re supposed to impress--kids overloaded on sugar.” Mary took a delicate bite of her veggie omelet as Henry materialized beside Emma, setting his tray down next to her and sitting down. Emma immediately leaned into him and swiped a plump strawberry off his plate. 

“Hey!” he cried, pouting as Emma popped the strawberry, covered with just the right amount of whipped cream, into her mouth. She grinned innocently at him. Anne rolled her eyes.

“Oh God, can you please stop being adorable for just a minute? I can’t handle this on top of everything else.”

“Anne, come on. You really need to relax.”

“Has she been like this all morning?” Henry asked, his voice low in Emma’s ear. 

She stole another berry off his plate and nodded. “We’ve been trying to run interference, but--”

“Oops!”

Later, Emma would swear that the weirdest thing about it was that she heard Alice’s voice  _ before _ she felt her sister’s tray slam into her back. Her body stiffened instinctively, her shoulders hunching up around her ears, but the damage was already done. There was a squelching sound, a wet  _ smack _ as a waffle hit the floor, and then Emma shuddered as she felt liquid soak into her shirt--syrup, the scent cloying and overwhelming around her. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks she wore her hair up today, but she felt tears sting her eyes all the same. Quickly, she blinked them away before anyone else could see.

“Oh, she did  _ not _ …” she heard Charlotte mutter.

“Sorry, sis!” Alice sang, already stooping to pick up her abandoned plate and tray. The waffle lay abandoned on the linoleum, someone else’s mess to clean up. As always. “Didn’t see you there.”

Emma took a deep breath, avoiding the gazes of Anne, Mary, and Charlotte even though she could feel their eyes on her. Henry tensed beside her, jumping up out of his chair. “You did that on purpose,” he accused, his voice lower than usual, his anger evident in the way he clenched his hand into a fist, the slight twist of his mouth when he spoke.

“Henry, it’s okay,” Emma said quickly, standing up as well. She wasn’t sure why he was so angry all of a sudden--if anyone should be angry, it was her. But she knew that her mother was watching from her place at the head table. She knew that Jane would be expecting Emma to be the better person, even when all she wanted to do was rip her sister’s tray out of her hands and pour syrup down  _ her _ shirt, see how  _ she _ liked to be the one that was humiliated. But she was Emma and Alice was Alice, so she forced herself to say, softly, “It was an accident. Right, Alice?”

She fixed her sister with a glare, and Alice seemed to shrink a bit under her gaze. Maybe she was regretting her actions now. Maybe she realized that Emma wasn’t the same girl she could push around anymore. “Of course. An accident. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“There, see? It’s okay. I just have to go change.” She turned away as the chatter rose up around them again, everyone’s attention elsewhere now that the drama had apparently been averted.

“Emma,” Henry called after her, but Emma was already gone, moving past their table toward the door. The moment she was outside, she broke into a run and didn’t stop until she was back in the counselor’s cabin. She slammed the door behind her and ripped her shirt from her body, where it landed with a sticky slap on the wooden floorboards. “Damn it, Alice,” she whispered, sinking onto her bed with her head in her hands.

She didn’t know why her sister was tormenting her, especially today of all days. It was cruel even for Alice, but maybe that was the point. She sighed heavily and wiped the last of her stubborn tears away. She was about to get up and find another shirt to wear when she was startled by a knock on the cabin door.

“Emma?” Henry’s voice sounded unsure, and he swung the door open before Emma had time to react. He stood in the doorway of the cabin, eyes widening when he noticed her standing there in just her shorts and bra. Instantly, his face began to redden. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll just--”

He went to close the door, and Emma’s next words flew out of her mouth before she had time to think about them.

“Wait. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, you’re not...not decent...I shouldn’t be here. I’ll wait outside.”

“Henry, it’s fine.” Maybe she should have felt embarrassed or self-conscious, but Emma found that she didn’t. She felt perfectly comfortable--in fact, she even took a step closer. “When you think about it, it’s really not that different than seeing me in a bathing suit.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s totally different, Emma.”

“Henry Hopkins, you’re blushing.” She felt slightly triumphant about that--she’d made him blush. “Really, it’s okay. You can go if you want, but if you want to just wait here for me, I’ll be ready in two seconds.” She gave him a small smile and gestured to the open door. “Whatever you decide, at least close that--you’re letting in every bug in Virginia.”

That, at least, got a laugh out of him, and he seemed to relax. Slowly, as if giving her time to change her mind, he closed the cabin door and stood in front of her, taking in the sight of her with more confidence this time.

“Your sister did that on purpose.”

“I know.”

“She shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really don’t want to talk about Alice right now.”

“Fair enough.” His voice was lower now, huskier. He lowered his gaze, his eyelashes almost brushing his cheeks-- _ God _ , this man’s eyelashes should be  _ illegal _ \--as he took in the full sight of her. “God, you are beautiful, Emma,” he whispered.

It wasn’t smart--they had a million things to do today, parents would be arriving in just a couple of hours, and anyone could walk into the cabin at any given moment. There were a hundred reasons why Emma should just change her clothes and get back to the mess hall, but as Henry’s fingers skimmed the bare skin of her waist, she forgot all of them.

She kissed him, her arms winding around his neck to bring him closer. His lips were hesitant at first, but when Emma pulled him closer, he gained more confidence. His tongue slid easily into her mouth as he busied himself with freeing her long, dark hair from the bun she’d painstakingly put it in that morning. Emma sighed breathily, deciding to forgive him the sin of messing up her hair. In fact, she decided as he ran his hands through her hair, she’d forgive him anything if he kept kissing her like that.

“Emma,” he whispered, backing the two of them up to Emma’s bed. In that moment, Emma forgot about Alice, and Frank, and the looming importance of the day. She forgot about everything except Henry and his lips and his hands, how safe and perfect he made her feel, and nothing her sister or parents or campers or anyone else could throw at her today was going to ruin her mood after this.

Breakfast was over by the time they finally left the cabin, and if anyone noticed that Henry’s shirt was wrinkled, and Emma’s hair was now free from its bun, they were at least polite enough not to mention it right away

_ 8:15 AM--Cabin Clean Up _

“Here,” Mary whispered in Emma’s ear as they helped supervise one of the eight-year-old cabins during cleanup. So far, there had been less cleaning and more singing Disney songs and trying to hide contraband candy, which was why Mary was now happily munching on some confiscated Twizzlers despite the early hour. From behind her back, Mary pulled out a grease-spotted napkin, unwrapping it to reveal a slightly squished breakfast biscuit and a few sausage links. “I know you missed breakfast, and the last thing we need is you getting hangry on us. I figured you could do a breakfast sandwich with this to tide you over. Sorry I couldn’t sneak out a waffle for you.”

“No, it’s perfect. You’re a saint,” Emma said eagerly, reaching for the food as her stomach growled appreciatively. She made sure none of the little girls were watching her--they were currently engaged in a fierce debate over whose turn it was to sweep the floor--before she took a bite. “You seriously just saved my butt.”

“Yeah, well, speaking of butts…” Anne said softly, a dustpan in her hand that she handed off to the nearest camper.

Mary snorted. “Nice segue.”

“It was never going to come up organically any other time. Now, Emma darling, I couldn’t help but notice that both you and the chaplain missed the rest of breakfast…” Anne smirked, her earlier anxiety apparently forgotten now that she had someone to tease. “Am I to assume that there was some hanky-panky going on in our cabin when you went to change?”

“Hanky-panky? You sound like my grandmother.”

Anne waved Mary away as easily as swatting a mosquito. “Come on, Emma, you know we’re dying to know what the two of you got up to.”

“Anne, we’re surrounded by children.”

Emma swallowed her last bite of biscuit a bit too quickly, and coughed. Her face grew hot, and she ducked her head to take a sip from her water bottle. “We didn’t do anything bad, if that’s what you’re implying. Nothing we should...be ashamed about.”

“Oh, you should never be ashamed about sex, regardless,” Anne said immediately. “Have it, don’t have it, it’s all good in my book.”

“ _ Anne _ ! The kids will hear you!”

The kids in question were, at this moment, huddled around one of the cubbies whispering to each other, and there was a telltale crinkle of plastic that told Emma there was more forbidden candy to be found. None of them seemed to be paying attention to them, anyway. She turned to Anne and hissed, “Not that it’s any of your business, but we did  _ not _ have sex.”

“But you had fun though, right?” Anne waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Emma’s blush deepened.

“I’m not answering that.”

“And that’s all the answer I need, love,” Anne answered with a grin. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but her words were drowned out by a high-pitched shriek from the back of the cabin.

“Ew! Ew, get it out! Get it out! Nurse Mary!”

There was a chorus of screams, and all three counselors leapt into action, trying to find the source of the commotion. Two eight-year-olds flung themselves into Emma’s arms, one tried to scramble up Anne’s back while another simply burst into tears. Everyone was talking at once, one on top of the other, and Emma’s head started to pound. One of the girls was screaming “Where is it? Where did it go?”, and Mary was on her hands and knees looking under each bunk, and another camper was pleading with her, asking her not to hurt him and he wasn’t hurting anyone and would everyone stop being so  _ loud _ , you’re scaring him!

“There!” Mary shouted, pointing as a flash of green streaked by. Anne shouted as the captive frog--how had he even gotten in here?--hopped dangerously close to her foot, and Emma attempted to disentangle herself from a tangle of knobby limbs and sharp elbows to run and open the door.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Anne cried out. No one commented on her language.

It was, of course, that moment when the door of the cabin opened to reveal a bewildered Jane Green, her arms stacked full of towels fresh from the camp laundry. Her mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise as she took in the sight--Mary on the floor, Anne hopping from one foot to another, the group of screaming little girls and in the middle of it all, one very confused frog.

“What in the world is going on in here?”

_ 9:15 AM: All Camp Clean-Up _

“Thought you might need this.”

Henry’s words were accompanied by a steaming Syrofoam cup of coffee, and Emma would have kissed him right there if she wasn’t already so bone-weary that the task seemed insurmountable. She took the cup with a grateful smile and sipped--he had even remembered that she preferred hazelnut creamer over vanilla, bless him.

“Jed told me you had some...issues with the young padawans.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And proud of it. But seriously, what were they thinking, trying to hide a frog in their cabin?”

“It was just one girl. Lexie. Apparently she wants to be a scientist?” She took another sip of coffee. “I’m just shocked that her regular counselors didn’t find it first. They were on kitchen duty, that’s why we were filling in. It was such a mess.”

“You got it out, right?”

“Thanks to Charlotte’s quick thinking, yeah. But we still got the Jane Green Special afterwards.” At Henry’s blank look, Emma explained. “A lecture about standards and the camp’s reputation and how we need to make the best impression possible for the parents. I’ve heard it all before, but this seemed different.”

“Different how?” Henry settled in beside her, watching as a small group of campers and counselors scurried around, picking up trash, sweeping up the gazebo, stowing all the pool toys carefully in the shed. In the corner of the shed, Mary and Jed were talking in hushed voices, their faces close together, his arm around her waist. Emma wondered if they were having a similar conversation right now.

Henry continued, “More of the same, like you told me before?”

“Yeah. She seems so, so worried about today, like there’s more riding on it than ever before. And she won’t tell me why.”

“Did you try asking her? I really think you need to talk to her.”

Emma shrugged, finishing the rest of her coffee. “It didn’t seem like the best time.” She reached for Henry's hand with her free one, entwining their fingers together. 

“You’ll find a better time. Maybe after today things will get better. And hey, you’ve already had a waffle spilled on you and a rogue frog in the cabins. Maybe this is all the bad luck we’re going to have today.”

“Oh, I really wish you hadn’t just said that. I’m sure you’ve jinxed us all now.”

Henry chuckled. “Here, I’ll throw your cup away for you.” Emma handed it over, but Henry hadn’t taken two steps away from her when suddenly he was drenched, sputtering and dripping water as Byron shouted, “Sorry! Sorry! Thought it was empty!”

“What are you doing with a Super Soaker?” Henry cried, wringing out the tail of his shirt as his campers howled with laughter.

“I found it in the pool shed! Here, I think it’s--”

Henry was hit with another stream of water, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Stop! Stop! I give up!”

“Hey, Rev!” Charlotte called over her shoulder, helping Sam carry a stack of folding chairs. “Extra Super Soakers are in the shed. If you’re interested.”

Henry, still wringing out his shirt, paused. Byron’s face paled.

“Oh, it’s on, Hale.”

_ 10:30 AM: Campers Showers and Rest Time (Counselors Help Set Up Lawn Games) _

“So I guess they were able to get inflatables after all.” Jed was leaning up against the wall of the health lodge, watching as Byron struggled to help inflate a colorful bouncy castle. He rolled his eyes. “Someone really ought to just leave it to the professionals.”

“Should we help him?”

“No, this is more fun.”

Mary shoved him lightly, and he grinned. “You’re awful.”

“Eh, the inflatables people will make sure he doesn’t screw anything up. Anyway, I thought you could use a laugh after your froggy escapades earlier.”

“I swear, those kids took at least two years off my lifespan. My ears are still ringing. Anyway, I’ve been trying to keep myself busy. The health lodge is all clean now, not that any of the parents will care enough to check it out. But after the tongue-lashing we got from Mrs. Green after the frog incident, it didn’t seem like a good time to take any chances.” She gave him a wry smile. “Maybe a parent or two will be super interested to hear an in-depth explanation of how we treat bug bites and scrapes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short--we do way more than that. And honestly, if Jane Green was smarter she’d be able to see that, and maybe she’d appreciate you a little more.”

“Honestly, I just want to get through the day.”

“We will,” Jed said, his tone confident. “Now, I was told to see a man about a dunk tank…”

“That sounds like an absolutely horrible euphemism.”

“Realized it as soon as I said it. So, what do you say, Phinney? Want to give me a hand?” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Bet if we played our cards right, we could convince Byron to be the one to test it out.”

Mary smiled and shook her head. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” she asked.

“Visit Day is my favorite day of the year. Yeah, it’s chaos from start to finish, and everyone’s losing their mind, but it all always comes together at the end of the day, and the kids have a good time. And when you think about it, that’s really why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mary agreed, filled with a newfound appreciation and affection for the boy in front of her. “It is.”

“So what do you say, Phinney? Race you to the dunk tank?”

But instead of racing him, Mary took his hand, and they raced off across the camp lawn together.

_ 11:00 AM: Parents Arrive! (Please check in with your child’s counselor upon arrival) _

“So here we are. Moment of truth,” Charlotte mused as they stood in the parking lot, watching the line of cars that snaked around and down the main road.

“This has been the longest morning of my life,” Mary said, sounding deflated. “And the chaos hasn’t even really started yet.”

“I’d say it’s not usually like this, but I don’t think you’d believe me,” Emma said with a laugh, watching as one of the campers took off like a shot towards her parents’ car before it had even been put into park. “Careful!” she called, but her voice was lost in the sea of reunions, of happy parents and kids seeing each other after weeks apart. She saw Henry eagerly being introduced to the parents of one of the boys in his group, and she waved.

Charlotte reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it and smoothing out the creases. “So what’s next on the docket? We’ve split them into groups, right? For lunch and stuff?”

“Yep, to avoid a repeat of the Great Hot Dog Shortage incident.”

“Y’all have nicknames for everything here, I swear,” Mary murmured.

“Mary said y’all! Add it to the tally!”

“We’ll turn you into one of us before long, Mary,” Emma teased, and Mary rolled her eyes.

“So then they’ll rotate through lunch, the open house in the art barn, and open swim, right? Then free time, then lawn games, then we steal our kids away for one last frantic dress rehearsal before dinner.”

“Sounds about right.”

“We can handle that.”

“We can handle that…” Emma repeated, singing the phrase and grinning at Anne’s blank look. “Sorry. That’s from  _ The Last 5 Years.” _

“Never heard of it. Has anyone seen Byron?”

“There was an...incident with the dunk tank,” Mary said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “He’ll be right back.”

Anne huffed out a sigh, but said nothing more, her eyes skimming the parking lot. “Well, ladies, looks like our fun is only just beginning.”

_ To be continued... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. This chapter was seriously my Everest. I have no idea why but every word was like pulling teeth for a while. Now that I've hopefully remembered how to write again (and gotten most of the difficult stuff out of the way) things should be easier now. I decided to split this chapter into two parts so I don't overwhelm you or cause myself to completely self-destruct. Part 2 will be on the way shortly!
> 
> Many thanks to fericita for holding my hand throughout most of this chapter. I hope she enjoys the Emmry shenanigans!
> 
> Title comes from the Springsteen song, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the summer camp AU that literally no one asked for. Seriously, no one did. Why am I doing this?
> 
> Okay, I'm doing this because I've been sitting on a first sentence prompt from middlemarch for ages (the first sentence of this fic), and it's sunny but still super cold where I am, and I'm craving summer, especially as it's getting more obvious that summer won't look the same this year. And it made me happy to write this, even though I've now totally outed myself as someone who reads summer contemporary novels for teens because let's be real, that's all this is!
> 
> So I offer you a little bit of summer romance YA Emmry to escape into. If there's enough interest, I may continue this in some form. Or not. I'm not sure, but enjoy this with a Popsicle and a good summer soundtrack and please, don't forget your bug spray!
> 
> Title from "Summertime" by the Sundays.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Climbing on rainbows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985205) by [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch)




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